


That Evening Sun

by starmagnitudesix



Category: Baby Face (1933)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starmagnitudesix/pseuds/starmagnitudesix
Summary: Chico's second time in Paris was different than the first.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	That Evening Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neotoma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neotoma/gifts).



> Thank you for such a fun prompt - I had the exact same question after watching the movie! I wish Chico had been given a larger role, and imagining what could have happened to her after the movie was a treat.
> 
> Please forgive any glaring historical inaccuracies and I hope you enjoy the historical references I did draw upon. Eugène was inspired by the real-life Eugene Bullard, who really was such a fascinating figure I couldn't not make a reference. Chez Bricktop is based on the real-life club, although I don't know if Chico could have so easily gotten a job there!
> 
> Also, I did take some liberties with Paris geography, but the chance for the Symbolism of the Eiffel Tower and the sign was too good to pass up.
> 
> Finally, the title comes from some lyrics in "St. Louis Blues," the song Chico sings a number of times over the film.

Chico's second time in Paris was different than the first. 

Lily’s absence lingered over those first few weeks. Chico walked down the same streets, ate at the same cafes, even passed by the old Gotham bank building, and the city just moved on, as if Lily had never even been there.

She kept an eye on the trial as it unfolded. The blame spun from one person to the next to the next and the newspapers couldn’t get enough of it. Chico was reminded of the old days dealing with drunks who couldn’t hold their liquor, too ashamed to admit to breaking their chairs or knocking over a round of bottles. But it wasn’t just chairs and tables these rich white men were breaking this time. 

Courtland started out as the villain, and it was easy to paint him as one: his playboy past, his quick appointment to the president’s seat, even his marriage to Lily was a questionable mark against him. The rich boy who’d rather take his girl to Paris than run a bank. If Chico hadn’t known about him from Lily, maybe she would have bought it. The board of directors was vicious. The guilt got piled so high Chico wasn’t sure one man could even do that much. Clearly the lawyers thought so too, as they dug into the board and their role in the whole affair. It was letters between three of the members that eventually emerged, pointing to their guilt, and the conspiracy to blame the whole problem on their young president. 

Lily was a ghost at the edge of the pages. At first, there was only a glimpse, a sentence or two about Courtland's "beautiful wife.” But the longer she stayed - and Chico could imagine her in the courtroom, dressed up all fancy, throwing terrifying expressions at anyone who dared cross her - the more mention journalists made of her.

As the months passed, Paris too unfolded itself for Chico. The hum of French around her became something half-understandable. She found her way into the small but thriving community of black Parisians.

Marie, born and raised in France, was enthusiastic and sweet and never made fun of Chico’s imperfect accent. Henriette and her husband Eugène welcomed her when Chico needed a place to stay. Henriette was a quiet painter, bringing the streets of Paris to life on her canvas. Eugène had been one of the first black pilots to fly during the War, his courageous feats earning him a croix de guerre. After his service, he decided to stay in France instead of returning back to America, a choice made even easier when the beautiful Henriette caught his eye.

But if Eugène was an outstanding pilot, then he was an even better jazz drummer, playing regularly at not one or two but three clubs in the city. He was one to introduce her to Chez Bricktop. The club was down two hostesses, and he’d casually asked if she might like to help out for a night; Chico knew she had to take this chance. By the end of the shift, she’d talked her way into staying on permanently and charmed at least a quarter of the regulars. Lily could have charmed more, but Chico didn’t think she’d done too bad. She couldn’t miss this moment to be near such artists, listening to the best damn jazz she’d ever heard.

Paris was beginning to feel like a home. And then Lily’s letter arrived: She and Courtland were returning to Paris. And of course, Lily wrote, she wanted to see Chico very much.

Lily arrived on a warm afternoon, a pleasant beginning for her visit. Yet when Chico finally saw her walking through the station, there was an uncertainty to Lily’s gait. No more fancy furs and glamorous gowns: Lily wore her hair up, with a simple coat and practical boots. She was almost like the Lily of the tavern, before they’d escaped to New York. 

“Lily!” Chico waved.

“Chico!” Lily rushed over, to a few stern looks from the other passengers. “Chico— I—” she said, but stopped. Her hands trembled. It was strange to see Lily so at a loss for words, so Chico enveloped her in a hug instead.

When they pulled apart, Lily was wiping away the tears by her eyes.“Seems like you’ve missed me, honey,” Chico said gently.

“Isn’t that how it goes? I didn’t know how I good I had it until you were gone.”

“Well, you’ve got me now.”

“You’re too good to me, Chico. And what an adventure, living in Paris on your own. You’ll have to tell me everything.” 

“Of course.” Curiosity got the best of her; Chico looked past Lily, wondering where her husband might be. “Is Courtland…?”

“Oh, he’s already met up with the Martins,” Lily replied. “He was plenty tired from the journey, so I told him to go on ahead.”

“They’re friends of his? The Martins?” 

Lily nodded. “The trial took a lot out of him, and he’s— lost a lot of friends these past few months.” 

“I read about it in the papers,” Chico said. “They didn’t paint a very kind picture.”

“Courtland managed to keep his good name, but not much of anything else.” Lily laughed, a little bitterly. “It’s a hard lesson to learn, that money isn’t everything.”

“It may not be everything, but it is something,” Chico added and was happy to hear a non-bitter laugh from Lily in response. “Well now, what do you want to do? Are you hungry? Do you want to see the city?”

“It’s still light out. Let’s take a stroll around Paris, just like we used to,” Lily replied, smiling. 

They walked down the Paris streets like it was still so many months ago. Lily talked about the trial: how she’d made the board members so flustered the first day she’d come to court and her amazement that when she’d finally been interviewed by a paper, it was by a woman journalist. Chico talked about the kindness she had found in Paris, the poor artists who were always happy to share a meal. She loved working at Chez Bricktop, speaking with all the singers and musicians and writers who flowed in and out of the club with the regularity of the tides.

Chico didn’t even realize they were by the tower until Lily gasped: “Chico! The sign, it’s gone!”

The warmth of the day had gone; the clouds had started to gather. The Eiffel Tower gleamed, its restaurant lights still sparkling, but the bright image that had adorned it - all those lights advertising for “Citroën” - was no longer there.

“I was surprised, too. A friend told me the company filed for bankruptcy a few months ago,” Chico explained. “No money to keep the lights on.”

“Well,” Lily murmured. “Things never stop changing, do they.” Her gaze was drawn upwards. “It’s still beautiful. Different, but beautiful.” 

“It is.” 

The top of the tower was barely visible in the evening light, but Chico could imagine it going up and up into the sky, past the blue and into the clouds. Maybe it would never end, but keep climbing until it pierced the heavens itself. Or maybe another company would come along and hang up their lights for everyone to see. Maybe an artist would be commissioned to display their own enlightening message across its front. With or without lights, the tower would stand.

“Well, I’m getting pretty hungry, and I bet you are too,” Lily said, breaking Chico out of her thoughts. 

“I know just where we should go,” Chico replied.

Together, they walked into the night.


End file.
